


Silent Vows

by theimaginist



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Tennis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:51:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginist/pseuds/theimaginist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into the final moments and aftermath of the 2015 Roland Garros Championship game.  Novak Djokovic's Grand Slam is halted once again.  Despite remaining so poised and respectful in the public eye, beneath the strong facade, one can only imagine the turmoil and despair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Vows

He could feel it slipping away. He knew he had to stay focused and remain calm, but he could not quell the simmering panic in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, as Stan rears back to life to overcome his 3-0 lead, his limbs feel lethargic and he wills all his effort to just focus on each game.

Dashing from one end to the other, sliding against clay, and stretching every limb to reach the impossible shots, usually, it's a calming rhythm; dash, slide, stretch. Today, it's a thunder of desperation - nothing seems enough anymore.

And just like that, it's over.

The championship point soars past Novak and he resolutely walks to the net. He embraces Stan warmly and the two whisper words silent to the world. But their actions speak louder, and the two part amicably.

From there, Novak walks to his seat. He sits down, takes a drink and leans back, slumping against the backrest. The buzz of the audience falls deaf upon him as the situation settles in on Novak. He closes his eyes and replays the match in his head. He doesn't want to look to his box, doesn't want to see the emotions run through the eyes of his coaches, his trainers, his family. Instead, he focuses on the clay beneath his feet. If he looks elsewhere, it will be too hard to control his emotions.

But control is fickle in times as important as these. When the crowd seizes to applaud him, Novak can't help the swell of tears in his eyes nor the clenching of his throat. He looks around and waves at the audience; if only. If only they were cheering for another reason, for another champion, for another winner. His lips are pursed and Novak registers the cool plate in his hands. When the applause finally dies down, he speaks into the audience and wills his voice to hold. It does, and he speaks to Stan, the crowd and vows to himself that despite this loss, it will only continue to fuel him.

He retreats to his mind as the ceremony continues, feeling exhausted and defeated as he stands there on the stage. When the time permits, he gathers his belongings quickly, waves at the crowd and ducks into the change room. Suddenly, the roar is gone. There's a silence in the halls and he realizes that nobody else has arrived yet. He revels in these moments of privacy and looks around the room. It was only yesterday that he stood here after his win over Murray feeling hope and excitement for the promise of the Roland Garros.

He doesn't hear his team coming in until he feels himself pressed in a tight hug by Marian.

"То је у реду . Не одустајте ," whispers Marian.

Novak nods and leans his long, wiry frame against the smaller, sturdier one of his coach. He lets himself be supported as the disappoint of his loss momentarily overwhelms him. Marian seems to understand as he only grips Novak tighter. The others gather around the two and Novak feels the comfort of his team surround him. Hands pat his head and others rub his back in comfort. He lets go of Marian and turns to properly greet the rest of his team.

Each of them whispers hushed words of comfort and some even attempt to lighten the mood. But the jokes fall flat today as Novak's light-hearted nature is subdued. He knows he still has to address the press, but he yearns to be in the comfort of his home. He heart tightens in his chest when he thinks of his beautiful family awaiting him in their quiet home.

Boris puts his arms around Novak's shoulders and leads him to the press conference. Before they enter, he faces the dejected superstar.  
"Hey. We can overcome this. Not winning Roland was my error. I promise I won't let it be yours."

Boris stares straight into Novak, trust in me, are the words that aren't spoken aloud. Novak nods and grips his coach on the arm and squeezes; I do. The German coach seems satisfied and lets Novak go to his press conference. As he leaves, Boris silently vows to himself that Novak will lift the Coupe des Mousquetaires.

 

**Translations**

То је у реду . Не одустајте - _It's okay. Don't give up._

**Author's Note:**

> Novak’s loss last night was heartbreaking. But the grace and poise at which he held himself only makes me a greater fan. However, I can’t help but wonder what kind of emotional roller coaster he must be experiencing. By no means do I mean to be intruding, as my writing is merely a medium of my expression to reflect the disappointment, but nonetheless hope, for future victories. 
> 
> Always curious to hear your thoughts!


End file.
